


Zevran the Kid

by ventisquear



Series: Ice and Leather [9]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Kid!Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-03
Updated: 2017-11-03
Packaged: 2019-01-29 02:09:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12620788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ventisquear/pseuds/ventisquear
Summary: As the uninspired title says >.> this story features Zevran turned into a seven year old kid. It's set the Failed to Fail universe, and features characters from that story. It contains phrases in Italian - they *should* be clear from the context, but just in case, the translations are in the notes at the end.





	Zevran the Kid

**Author's Note:**

> As the uninspired title says >.> this story features Zevran turned into a seven year old kid. It's set the Failed to Fail universe, and features characters from that story. It contains phrases in Italian - they *should* be clear from the context, but just in case, the translations are in the notes at the end.

 An unfortunate side effect of three spells hitting him all at once. That was all Wynne could say about this catastrophe. As far as she knew, there was no counter spell or potion to fix it. Their best hope was that it would wear off.

Damn. Airam was sure Erwin, or perhaps Grandpa, knew what to do. But they were days of travelling away. All he could do was to ask Morrigan - force her, really, under the threat of having to mend all of Alistair's socks - to fly to Denerim and seek their advice. And hope that when she returned, it wouldn't be too late.

He scowled, cursing inwardly. This was all his fault! If he had noticed the three fools, if he had frozen them in time, this would never have happened.

"Air, could you please stop thundering around," Leliana said, exasperated.

"But-"

"Or do you want him to wet himself in fear?"

Airam immediately stopped and looked at the miserable little creature curled in the armchair: half drowned in a sweater much too big for him, big golden eyes full of terror and tears. But he didn't cry, or whine, or protest - he just sat there, resignedly waiting to see what would they do to him.

Great. Not only had he managed to get him cursed, now he scared him shitless, as well. How do you say 'Please don't be afraid' in Antivan? He had started learning Antivan a few months ago, but there hadn't been much time for lessons, with all the other things he had to study, and he hadn't made much progress. In fact, right now he could remember only one word. Ah, but it fit well:  _Brasca_. Airam ran his hand through his hair. Well, Fereldan would have to do.

With what he hoped was a friendly and reassuring smile, he crouched next to the boy. "Zevvie, there's no need to be afraid. We won't eat you," he said with a little laugh and looked at Leliana.

She translated it to Antivan, and Zevran in return gave him the most unconvincing nod and smile; it was obvious he did it just because he thought it was expected of him.

Sighing, he tried again. "I'm Airam. Your friend."

Leliana snickered.

"You're not helping," he accused her. "Better ask him what he wants for dinner."

For a moment it looked hopeful - Zevran's eyes lit up when he heard the question, but then his expression became closed and wary.

" _Niente, Maestro. Grazie, ma non ho fame._ "

"He says-"

"I know what  _niente_  means." Maker, how he hated the Crows! I swear, after the Blight I'll go to Antiva and kill them all. Hopefully it wouldn't take long now. He turned to Zevran again. "No, not Master.  _Io… no Maestro._  I'm..  _Io… un amico. Sí_?"

" _Un fidanzato_ ," Leliana corrected him with a smirk.

" _Egli è il vostro fidanzato?_ " Zevran asked confused, looking from Leliana to Airam.

"What did you tell him?" Airam asked suspiciously, before she could reply.

"Why, I just wanted to clarify the kind of relationship-"

"Are you crazy? Leliana, he's _seven!_ And he doesn't even remember me!"

"You're scaring him again."

Airam looked at the boy, now really shivering, and shook his head. "I think it's better if I leave," he said miserably. "I need to find a tailor anyway. You find out what he likes to eat. And don't tell him things inappropriate for his age."

oOo

Zevran sat on the bed, hugging his knees.

The day before yesterday he was slow during the training again, so the allenatore punished him and sent him to bed without dinner. But when he woke up, he wasn't in the flophouse anymore. He was sitting on a pile of clothes, in the middle of cold, white stuff, and there were a lot of weird people around and they were all upset and yelling, but not in Antivan. Because this wasn't Antiva at all. Did the allenatores sell him while he was asleep? But why? And how did they get him here so fast?

It must be magic. Three of these new people were mages. Maybe they magicked him from the Crows. Maybe the witch with her face painted in scary purple tones did it? She had crow feathers on her ugly dress, so maybe she was related to them. But why him? He only started trainings last month… Did they want to train him, too? Zevran bit his lip. When the Crows bought him, they immediately made it clear what they expected from him. But these people, they were just too weird.

One of them was even made of stone! And then there was a giant, and a scary witch, but she left to go somewhere soon after that, and three dwarves, one of them very stinky, and the very old and wrinkled lady, and a funny knight, and the pretty red-haired lady who could speak Antivan. And a huuuuuge dog.

The weirdest was their boss. Zevran had never seen anyone like him: his skin was white as milk and he had funny violet hair and eyes. At first he was scary, because whenever he looked at Zevran, he got upset. Maybe he was disappointed… maybe he wanted someone else? Zevran always expected a blow, but it never came. Instead the man tried to talk in Antivan, and repeated that he was Zevran's _amico_ and insisted that Zevran must call him by name. Which was Air and that was weird because that wasn't a name at all. But Master's order was Master's order; he didn't want to upset the weird man even more. What if he decided to sell Zevran to an even weirder place?

But they did not sell him. They wrapped him in thick clothing that prickled his skin, and took him to an inn. Master Air then brought some men; they measured his body and arms and legs and feet. He had to stand still while they did it, but it didn't take long.

And they gave him food - a bowl of hot stew and bread and buns and a big cup of milk. And they even let him eat together with them. And then the old lady, Wynne, tucked him in the bed and sang something in a soothing voice until he fell asleep.

It was all too weird. There must be a catch. Maybe it was all a dream. If he closed his eyes, he would wake up in the flophouse again. Or maybe they wanted something from him. Maybe the old lady would now send clients to his room, like the Matron in Lupanare Grande did sometimes, before she sold him to the Crows.

Whatever it was, he better not fall asleep.

oOo

The tailor brought the clothes the next morning, as promised. But the boots were a problem. The leather needed to dry, and no extra money would make it dry faster. They were lucky the mayor had ordered boots for his youngest son which were more or less the same size. Of course, he didn't like the idea of selling them to the Wardens at all.

"What does he needs boots for, anyway? He's an elf," the mayor argued. "I've heard elves don't wear boots. Something with their religion - they're pagans who worship nature as their mother and don't wear any footwear so they can stay in touch with her."

"You don't say," Airam said dryly. "Someone should tell the Dalish. I'm sure they'd be grateful for this interesting bit of lore they somehow missed." He glanced at his feet, sporting exquisite boots made of dragon skin; one of the Haren's masterpieces, and that was saying something.

The mayor followed his glance. "It's what I heard," he said with a nervous little cough.

Airam was just about to assure the man that Zevran worshipped nature only in the form of fish chowder and red wine, when Leliana cut in. "We will of course pay for your trouble, or we can pay for the new pair - it will only take a few more days. I am sure you understand that the Warden Commander cannot spend a whole week here; we need to get to Denerim as soon as possible."

Clever girl - Airam felt that if he would have had to hear any more rambling about elves in touch with mother nature, there might have been a sudden heavy blizzard in this area.

oOo

Don't show weakness. Zevran stood silently, watching the little clouds that formed as he breathed. All his insides had turned into a quivering mass, but he somehow managed to smile. He must be strong now.

Air gave him a lot of new clothes: a shirt with no sleeves, a shirt with long sleeves, and a pricky shirt that was called a woolen sweater, and thick underpants and woolen socks and trousers and gloves and a woolen shawl and a woolen cap and a thick coat. If all the clothes he had ever had were piled together, there wouldn't be as many as this. And Air insisted he had to wear all of it at the same time! Silly - how could anyone move with that much clothes on? Of course, he didn't say that aloud. Air was his Master.

Then Air gave him shoes… tall and black, made of leather. They were call boots, Leliana told him, and they were the most beautiful things he had ever seen. Air told him they were his and to put them on. And that scared him. It was too good. Nothing is for free. If you want anything, you need to be strong and fight for it and win. Only then can you claim it as your own. The allenatores repeated that every day.

And he was right. When he was all dressed up, with the shawl wrapped around his face so only his eyes were free, they told him to wait. It was difficult to breathe, and he felt fat drops of sweat rolling down his back, but he didn't dare to remove the shawl. Finally, Air and Leliana returnd - with a boy, almost twice as big as him, and with several carrots sticking out of his pocket. He was Jamie, the innkeeper's son, and he would take Zevran and Rask out to play, Leliana explained.

Rask barked happily and licked Zevran's face. But Zevran wasn't fooled. This had to be it: the test. Outside Jamie would challenge him and he would have to fight for it all. He had seen duels like that in the Crows. But they were always older apprentices, who trained for years; he had only started his training a few weeks ago. How could he possibly defeat this big boy?

When they went outside and Jamie told him to wait, he was certain of it: the boy had gone to take a weapon. Finally, he heard Jamie coming back from the shed. He shut his eyes tight, determined to do his best. It was his only chance to survive.

Jamie returned, not with a weapon, but with some weird wooden carriage. It had no wheels, but it glided on the snow easily. Air said something in an excited voice, then gestured for them both to sit down - Zevran in the front and Jamie behind him - and harnessed Rask to it as if he were a horse. The dog barked again and started running, pulling the carriage behind him.

Zevran turned back, surprised. Wasn't Air coming too? How would he know who won? Maybe this wasn't a duel after all. But what was it all about, then? They whooshed through the streets of the village, and everyone who saw them stopped and laughed. Zevran relaxed; whatever was happening, he was sure he wouldn't die. The ride immediately became far more enjoyable.

It didn't last long, though, before they reached the wide empty space behind the houses. There were many other kids there - maybe it was a training session? But he couldn't see any allenatores. And all the kids were laughing, and shouting and running all over the place; there was no sense or order to it.

By the time they had parked next to a dozen similar carriages and untied Rask, all the kids had come running. They had a lot of questions; he didn't understand what they asked and what Jamie replied, but he was sure it concerned him. Why else would girls squeak 'kyoot' and pinch his cheeks? But, nobody tried to take anything from him, or to attack him.

" _Dobbiamo combattere?_ " he asked Jamie uncertainly.

The boy laughed as if he'd said something silly. "Combat! Yes! Let's have a snowball fight!" He tooks some snow and made a ball of it. "This. Snowball. Snow-ball. Throw," he explained in a slow voice, pointing at one of the boys. He threw the ball; the boy tried to jump aside, but the ball hit his arm. "Understand?"

" _Sí_ … yes," Zevran lied. What was the point of this? Was it supposed to be some kind of weird archery training? But, he had no time to wonder about it. The kids scattered all across the field again, and the next moment the balls started flying. He had to focus now. After all, he wanted to win.

oOo

"What is on your mind, Airam? You seem worried."

"Hm?" He glanced at Wynne, who sat on the bench next to him. "No, I… I've just been watching Zev. How happy he is…" He turned to where Zevran and Jamie were describing all their games to Leliana. The little elf's eyes were shining, and his cheeks were flushed with excitement.

"Yes, it looks he didn't have much of a childhood. Until now."

Airam sighed. "Yes."

"Let me guess: you are thinking it would be better for him to stay like this. To live his life again, without the Crows."

Her tone was kind, almost pitying, yet he winced as if she had slapped him. "I want him back. I want my Zevran. But… I'm not sure if it's not selfish of me. Maybe I should leave it as it is. He could be innocent again; he could be whole. No painful memories, no regrets… Do I have the right to take that from him?"

"Not right, no. You have a duty to do all you can to change him back. He might look and act like a six year old-"

"Seven. The Crows bought him when he was seven. For three sovereigns, you know."

"That is beside the point now. The fact is that he is still twenty-five. Would you let him live a lie? Would you rob him of sixteen years of his life?"

Put like that, it didn't sound like such a good idea anymore. "Well, no, of course not, but-"

Wynne didn't let him finish, forcing her argument through. "And what if his memory returns one day, hm? Do you think he would appreciate it?"

"No," he admitted. Zevran would despise his pity. And if he ever turned back by himself and found that Airam didn't do it when he could - assuming they would find a way, of course - he would never forgive him. "No…"

"You have a good heart, Airam. Do not doubt yourself." Wynne reached her hand and tucked an unruly lock behind his ear, smiling. "Hopefully, he will remember what happened when he turns back. Then he will have a few happy childhood memories."

"That's true-"

"And the rest of us will have something to tease him about."

Airam gasped, then burst into laughter. "I think we have had a bad influence on you, Gran."

"Hmph. I was young as well, you know. And despite popular opinion among you brats, it was in this century."

oOo

Zevran woke up to Leliana's singing and playing on the lute. For a moment he just sat on the bed, enjoying the pleasant melody, but then hopped off. There were so many clothes to put on, he'd better hurry. It wouldn't do, to let them find him wasting time. Though maybe they wouldn't mind. They didn't ask him to do anything yesterday. Have fun, was all they told him to do. In the evening he and Air had read a picture book, to teach each other a few words - he in Fereldan and Air in Antivan - but even that had been fun. Air never boxed his ears when he made a mistake, he just laughed. He laughed a lot. Zevran liked that.

There was a knock on the door, just as he pulled on the prickly woolen sweater, and a moment later Leliana entered. "Good morning! You are already up and ready? That's a good lad. There's breakfast waiting for you in the hall. Then you can go say goodbye to Jamie and other kids, but be back before ten. We are leaving for Denerim today."

That made him sad, but he tried his best not to show it... and failed miserably.

"Aww, don't be like that," Leliana said. She crouched next to him and hugged him tight. "You'll enjoy the trip, and you'll find more friends in Denerim."

He nodded, and smiled and thanked her, and obediently went to eat the breakfast, but nothing could improve his mood. And when Jamie gave him a pocket knife, as a goodbye gift, he had to blink furiously to get the traitorous tears out of his eyes.

oOo

They hired three sledges from the village, but they were big and pulled not by mabaris, but by horses. Zevran was sitting with Air, Leliana and Wynne. Sometimes, Leliana would sing merry songs; the best one was the song about the sailors and sirens she sang in Antivan. She would also tell him funny stories that made him laugh out loud. When Leliana was quiet, Air would pull out the picture book and they would read together.

In the evenings they would go to the nearest village, and rent a room in the inn for the night. The young dwarf would teach him to play cards, showing him little cheats. Wynne was angry with him for that, but he'd reply that now he could say Zevran learned all his tricks from him. It made him very happy.

On the third day they had to camp outside. There was no village with a warm inn nearby. Sten and the stone lady scooped all the snow into one huge pile, tall as a hill. They put up tents on the cleared area and Wynne drew funny glittering shapes around them; Leliana said they were glyphs and that they would keep them warm. But more important was that Air let him slid down from the big pile of snow.

When all was done and the stew was simmering over the campfire, Farren and Dagna challenged Air and others to a snowball fight. Air's eyes sparkled with mischief.

"Alright, then. All of you against me and Zev!"

At first Zevran thought that was a horrible idea - what chance would they have, against so many? He soon found out how wrong he was. The snow did what Air wanted. One flick of his wrist, and the snow near them formed into a neat row of snowballs, ready to be used. And when they threw them, the balls never missed their target.

The others were doing what they could - the stone lady threw balls the size of soup bowls, and Wynne's balls chased their targets all over the area - but an ice mage was an ice mage, as Leliana said, when they finally stopped, breathless and happy.

And yet, Air looked worried and a bit sad. He didn't eat the stew at all, just sat there frowning at his bowl. Wynne and Leliana tried to cheer him up, but it didn't work. Zevran couldn't stand it. He gathered all his courage and stood in front of Air.

" _Perché sei triste?_ "

Airam blinked. "What?"

Leliana translated his question, and Air tried to smile. "It's okay, Zevvie…" It wasn't convincing at all. Air was a terrible liar.

" _Non essere triste,_ " Zevran said. He hesitated for a moment, then reached his hand and stroke Airs face. " _Non essere triste, amico mio_."

Air gaped at him, then pulled him into a tight hug. " _Grazie_ , Zevran.  _Grazie, amico_."

Air was such confusing man, he thought as he returned the hug. He smiled and looked happy and yet Zevran had a feeling he was even sadder now.

oOo

Almost a week after the incident, they were finally in Denerim. The last few minutes as they slid through the muddy snow to Erwin's house were the worst - they reminded him of the last night in Ostagar while they waited for the horde and the doom it would bring. Airam looked at the small boy curled in his lap and stroked his hair. Look at him: so vulnerable, in his trust. Despite what Wynne said, he was still full of doubts. Should he hope Erwin had found the counter-spell - or that he hadn't?

The sledges stopped in front of Erwin's gate. A bunch of servants set to unharnessing the horses and taking their luggage almost before the drivers hopped down. One day he must ask Erwin how he always knew when they would be arriving.

They were taken to their usual rooms, - all except Zevran, who looked bewildered with all the luxury around him and determinedly stuck to Airam. The hot bath, comfortable clean clothes and a tray of delicious little cupcakes helped a bit, but he still clutched Airam's hand, when they left the room to join the others in the winter garden.

Erwin's winter garden was one of the wonders of Ferelden; Airam always suspected that his friend helped the gardener with his illusion magic. How else could it be explained, that while the world outside turned fifty shades of gray, here the flowers bloomed, filling the air with a sweet scent, and the light danced on pearl chains of water falling from the fountain?

" _Magnifico_ ," Zevran breathed as they entered. Airam was sure that if they were alone, he would run right into the nearest fountain. But with everyone there, sitting in the cushioned rattan armchairs, watching his every move, he stepped behind Airam again.

"It's okay, Zev," he said, ruffling his hair. "That guy is Erwin. My friend, you know... uh...  _mio amico_ , I mean. And that one next to him, that's my Grandpa... um, wait...  _nonna_?"

Zevran looked at him, then at Grandpa and laughed. " _Nonno_ ," he corrected him, eyes sparkling with joy.

"Whatever. You always call him Rashwash anyway." He steered them to the nearest free armchairs, ignoring the smirks and comments from his crazy ancestor. Thank the Maker Zevran couldn't understand them – and that he wasn't an assassin. Yet.

"So. Do you know how to change him back?" he asked the moment he sat down. No point wasting time chatting about politics and nobles. He wanted this over as soon as possible.

"Such impudence!" Grandpa pouted. "Who do you think you're talking to? You're sitting here with the most brilliant mage in Thedas-"

"Aw, thank you. Glad you finally admit it," Erwin cut in.

"-and my  _talented apprentice_ ," Grandpa continued. "We had it ready days ago. We can start anytime you want."

"Good," Airam said before Erwin could start another pointless argument about who's the most vainglorious mage in the world. "Then let's do it now."

Erwin arched his brow at him. "Before dinner? I thought you'd be Warden-hungry. This will take some time, you know."

"We can enjoy it all together when he's back to normal."

"As you wish." Erwin got up and walked over to Zevran, stretching his arm. " _Vieni, Zevran. Dite addio ai vostri amici e mi segua_."

Zevran's eyes widened in horror. He hopped from the armchair and sprinted to Airam. " _No, Maestro! Si prega, non mi vendere a quell'uomo!_ "

"What?" He caught Zevran before he could kneel in front of him, and pulled him to a hug. "Why is he crying?" he asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at Erwin.

"Erwin told him to say his goodbye and follow him and now he thinks you want to sell him," Leliana explained.

"It was just a joke," Erwin muttered.

Airam glared at the man. "I swear, Erwin, sometimes you're brilliantly dumb." He wiped Zevran's tears away. " _Io e te, amici… per sempre_ ," he said softly, holding him tight. Only when the boy calmed down again, he looked at his friend again.

"Alright, then. Let's go."

Erwin just nodded and headed to his hidden lab below study. Grandpa, Wynne and Morrigan followed as well. The lab was changed for this occasion. Instead of long rows of shelves with alchemy ingredients and colourful bottles with potions, there was now... a bed. Complete with a pillow and a blanket.

"I thought we might as well make it comfortable for him," Erwin explained with a satisfied smile.

The bed was standing in the middle of a tremendous glyph, the lines of which were formed of dozens of smaller ones. All were imbued with lyrium, but as they were not activated yet, they didn't glow.

"He should undress, the clothes will be too tight when he grows back. We have the normal-sized clothes ready."

Airam helped Zevran undress and tucked him under the blanket. He could feel the boy shivering; this had to be too confusing and scary. Hopefully it would be over soon. He kissed Zevran on the brow, and returned to Erwin, who handed him a sheet of paper with what seemed like a long poem.

"Chant. Listen." Erwin sang the beginning; it was complicated, but he had heard worse. "I hope your singing is better than it was five years ago."

"I thought you realized by now that we Suranas are multitalented. There's nothing we are not good at - brilliant, in fact." Grandpa said haughtily. Poor Grandpa. He was in for a horrible surprise.

Standing around the room, they started to sing. It echoed around the room, the words they sang and echoes of what they had sung a moment before, in an endless whirl. One by one, the little glyphs on the floor came to life, until the whole circle was lit, it's pale blue glow reflecting from the walls. Bright and calm like summer morning, then fast and strong, like a storm at sea, it flew until they were all fully aborbed in it. And the time stopped.

oOo

"Zev? Look at me. Look at me, love. Can you see me? Do you know who I am?"

Zevran squinted at the purple-white blur in fron of him. He blinked and the blur slowly turned into Airam's lovely face. " _Il mio amore_ ," he replied with a smile, as he sat up. The blankets slid off to the floor. There was an amused chuckle somewhere behind him and Airam's ears turned pink.

"Everyone, out!" Airam cut in. "And you put some clothes on, silly assassin. You showed off enough for today."

"Such cruelty," Zevran complained merrily, but decided to wait until he heard all voices and steps fade away. Once he was sure they were really alone, he got up, stretching his arms and legs like a cat after a long afternoon nap. He pulled on the shirt and trousers. "What happened to friends forever?"

"So you remember?" Airam asked softly.

"Yes." He wrapped his arms around Airam's waist. "All of it. You did so much to make me happy. Thank you." He gently pressed their lips together. "But I'm glad the things are back to normal. I like this shape better," he purred.

Airam let out a shaky laugh. "Me too," he admitted.

"Oh? Should I undress again?"

"You're aware they are all waiting right behind the door? Ready to start teasing you the moment you appear?"

"As long as they're behind the door. I have a whole week of kissing to catch up with," he said, chuckling at the deepening blush on Airam's face.

Yes, things were definitely back to normal again.

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> Translation:  
> Niente, Maestro. Grazie, ma non ho fame. - Nothing, Master. Thank you, but I'm not hungry."  
> Io… no Maestro. I'm.. Io… un amico. Sí? - I… not Master. I… a friend. Yes?  
> Un fidanzato - a boyfriend  
> Egli è il vostro fidanzato? - He is your boyfriend?  
> kyoot - phonetic transcription of cute, if you couldn't tell. :D  
> Perché sei triste? - Why are you sad?  
> Non essere triste. - Don't be sad.  
> amico mio - my friend  
> Grazie - thank you  
> amore / il mio amore - love /my love (for males)  
> magnifico - gorgeous  
> nonna - Grandma  
> nonno - Grandpa  
> Vieni, Zevran. Dite addio ai vostri amici e mi segua. - Come, Zevran. Say goodbye to your friends and follow me.  
> No, Maestro! Si prega, non mi vendere a quell'uomo! - No, Master! I beg you, don't sell me to that man!  
> Io e te, amici… per sempre. - Me and you, friends… Forever.


End file.
